


Lance Hates Old Things

by daymaedoo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Phobias, Post Season 5, he kinda sucks, i dunno but maybe season 5 spoilers, implied klance, keith is actually pretty good at feelings, shiro is a jerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:14:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daymaedoo/pseuds/daymaedoo
Summary: In which Lance has a fear of old things (specifically things made of fabric) and manages to get captured on a risky mission.





	Lance Hates Old Things

Getting to the castle-ship initially wasn't hard.

No, Lance actually felt that was the easy part. All he had to do was simply knock on Blue’s particle barrier and she opened up to him, allowing them access to her cockpit. Flying through the desert behind the Garrison had been exhilarating- especially when Lance made sure to give Iverson a piece of his mind. Launching into space had been disorienting, to say the least. The fleet of Galra soldiers definitely was disconcerting, but he could manage. The jump through the open wormhole had left Lance slightly confused, if not dizzy.

But, nevertheless, he persisted. He made it to the _awesome_ castle with a huge grin plastered on his face. He didn’t know what he was in for but he was _chosen_. It almost felt like he was destined for greatness or something. He snorted before following behind the ragtag group that he dragged along with him in the ship - lion - thing. It wasn’t hard to find the control room, what with the lights turning on, illuminating the most obvious path. None of them would like to admit it, but they weren’t quite brave enough to explore the darkened hallways that branched off to the sides of them. So by an unspoken unanimous decision, they all stayed on the “safe” well-lit path to civilization.

With Hunk casually calling out into the apparent void of the ship and the constant _tap tap tapping_ of their feet against the hard linoleum floor echoing against the high ceilings, the walk didn’t seem so desolate. He was with his hero (read: Mr. Sexy-Please-Take-Me Sr.), his rival (read: major hottie who’s way out of his league), his best friend in the entire _world_ and little tech genius. What bad could _possibly_ happen with a team like that?

His mother always spoke of famous last words. Lance really didn’t understand the concept until they stood in the huge control room. Really, truly the technology was _insane_. Nowhere on Earth had they ever seen anything so advanced and new and just beautiful. Pidge was practically crying. But the longer Lance stood in the center of the room, the more he noticed about the weird place.

There were inches upon inches of densely packed dust layered on about every surface. The scent of the offending addition immediately dampening his mood. He could see where the dust motes literally _floated in the air_ \- twisting and glittering in the painfully bright, fluorescent light. He squinted against the dirt in the air and took in his surroundings.

Beyond the insane amount of dust, the room seemed extremely pristine. Even through the layer of gray covering almost every surface, the whites showed through, almost as clear as the tuft of stark white hair at the front of Shiro’s scalp. The blue’s remained muted and soft. They were dim, as if they were simply waiting to be awoken. Pidge had been fiddling with what seemed to be a control panel, Hunk peering over his shoulder. Lance found himself wandering toward a few crystalline tubes that were set a little off from the room. He let his hand rest on the outside of the capsule when they shimmered. He took a step back before the barrier completely vanished, letting its contents spill out into Lance’s lap.

Those contents just happened to be an entire princess.

He’d like to say the first thing he noticed were her eyes- beautiful, big, and stark against her dark complexion. He’d like to say that he noticed her hair- almost glowing silver where it grew, full and thick and flowing. He’d like to pretend that he noticed the alien markings under her eyes, the only thing (apart from her pointed ears) that reared her apart from a humanoid status. Hell, he’d even liked to say the first thing he noticed was her royal advisor’s fiery orange hair when he stumbled out of the chamber.

But alas, the thing he _really_ noticed first was far more mundane. Something everyone else in the room completely missed and disregarded because in the grand scheme of things, it shouldn’t matter. They were on another planet, in a huge castle, standing before ten-thousand-year old royalty for Christ’s sake. He didn’t notice that. Of course not. No, he noticed the _smell_.

He felt the offending odor of _old_ reach its way through his nose and down into his lungs as he breathed in the old cloth that the princess, Allura had been sleeping in. He smelled the mildewed aroma as it wafted with every movement. He almost gagged on the insistent offence.  Soon all of the dust made since. Suddenly, he felt the magnitude of ten thousand years hit him like a ton of bricks. He could feel the air ageing around him, almost yellowing and fraying at the ends. He tried to shake it off. Really, he did. He even let out a few jokes- harmlessly flirted with the princess in his arms (note to self: maybe don’t?). He shared friendly banter with the man with the flaming hair, but every overdramatized kick and punch only sent more dust flying and stirred the air, circulating the smell of old fabric.

Once the team realized they were in this castle for the long run, more or less, Lance made it his prime duty to completely purify all of the common rooms starting with anything that had any fabric on it. He dawned a pair of rubber gloves and set off on his self-prescribed dose of scent free sanity. His teammates watched as he scrambled in and out of rooms, stealing throw pillows, couch cushions, homey blankets, and soft ottomans. He washed every single one by hand.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Shiro thought he was crazy.

Hunk had witnessed this before though. The pair had been roommates back at the Garrison (thank Jesus for that one) so he knew about most all of Lance’s little _quirks_. Although, his aversion of old things was set a tad deeper than your average annoyance.

Ever since he could remember, Lance always _despised_ anything that wasn’t his. This, particularly, was most applicable to anything fabric related. At sleepovers, Lance made it a point to bring his own sleeping bag and pillow and sleep on a tile or hardwood surface while the rest of the group slept comfortably on couches or an air mattress or a carpeted living room. At his grandparent’s house, he’d sleep in the car because the whole house smelled of mothballs and the inevitability of death and decay. Hell, even his own old shit freaked him out. He couldn’t touch old baby blankets or toys without violently gagging.

So, Hunk helped him. He sat with him as he soaked everything in the castle’s equivalent of bleach and made sure to help Allura wash her entire wardrobe. He was starting to feel at home in the castle, casually sitting on rugs and napping on couches. He would genuinely smile when Coran leaned in to hug him instead of that tight lipped grimace that he used to shoot the man.

Lance had finally, _finally_ made the castle his home when Shiro gave him the mission. He’d learned recently not to speak against anything the black paladin demanded. Quite frankly, the sudden change gave him whiplash. In the brief reprieve that Keith had assumed the role as the head of Voltron, Lance had felt like an equal- he felt like someone of value to the team- not just the loud, overbearing clean-freak. Keith listened to Lance just like Shiro used to listen to Keith. It was invigorating. But once Lotor assumed residence on the ship, Shiro had been, for lack of a better word, _off_.

He was irritable. Angry, even. Any little thing could set the man off and when things did go haywire, he always sought out Lance, without fail. He would berate him about his performance- yell at him about his lack of focus in missions. Taunt him for not advancing fast enough. Hate him for not being trustworthy. Despise him for not being Keith and just crazy, disgusting Lance. So, when Shiro sent him alone into an aquatic Galra base, Lance bit his cheek and chastely nodded. Blue was an aquatic creature. She was the only one that could make it there and back. Of course Lance would go. Lance was to retrieve a journal from Lotor’s previous quarters that contained information he’d gathered on Altean alchemy.

Fine. Get the book, help Allura. Easy as pie. He’d do anything for her. She became an older sister figure for him. He could see how his constant worry for her got on everyone’s nerves- especially when she and Lotor ventured out to Oriande without any backup. Lance shutters whenever he thinks about it. Yeah, that wasn’t a good day.

But she’s back and needs more information and if Lance can provide, then damnit it’ll get done.

So, Lance overlooked the obvious miscalculations in the plan and submerged his lion in the turbulent waves of the Galra infested planet. Now, although Lotor and Voltron had a grasp on the Galra empire, many groups rebelled against the change in leadership- including this planet. But, it was nothing Lance couldn’t deal with. Nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. So when the first few sentries showed up, he shot them down with the ease of a trained marksman. He found high ground and picked them off until there were none left. All was well.

He climbed down from his perch and ghosted through the purple haze of a corridor- staying close to the walls.

“Pidge?” He asked into the coms.

“You’re coming in hot.” They sounded in his ear. “Keep down this hall and take the third left.”

“Rodger.” He said, counting his steps as he pressed forward. He was breezing past the second hall when he felt an arm wrap around his thin waist. A gasp ripped up his throat as he felt his helmet pulled off his head. He could hear buzzing emitting from his coms as he readied his bayard on his shoulder. He activated his flashlight and peered around the dark room he was pulled into.

“Come on out, bastard!” He yelled, still searching. He heard murmuring around him but couldn’t pinpoint where it came from. He could only make out the words “paladin of Voltron”. His grip tightened on his trigger before he felt a blunt pain explode behind his eyes. He felt himself slipping as they tore the bayard form his hands and bound them in a rough fabric. That same smell surrounded him. That smell of _god this is so old_. Finally, he let go.

 

 

He came to bound and sore- raw rope biting into his skin. Usually, he was cool, calm, and collected. He’d been captured before. Hell, they all had been. He was ready to roll his eyes and give his guards snide remarks and one word answers when he noticed the fabric stuffed in his mouth. He could feel it cutting into his neck as he tried to move. He could _taste_ it. That terrible old aroma. It was shoved down in his throat- he could feel it in his lungs with every breath and smell it all around him- encasing him in a cocoon of the horrifying smell. He choked and not because of the gag in his mouth. He was dry heaving- trying to expel the offending object from his mouth. He felt his breathing quicken. He couldn’t focus on anything around him. The odor felt as if it was tearing up his insides and infecting him with their very being. He needed to vomit- to get rid of this horrible smell- this goddamned cloth.

He was shaking. He didn’t want to seem weak. Hell, that was the last thing he needed right now- for the general to smell his fear. His _disgust._ But he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t feel anything beyond the gag in his mouth and the bonds on his wrists.

_Okay, Lance_. He thought to himself. _Just hold on. It’ll be fine._

He let the idea of his team bursting through the door take over his mind. He’d be fine. He’d just have to hold out. There’s a tracker in his armor. They’ll find him. The general must have noticed him stirring because soon, there was a strong grip on the back of his neck that left him blanching on his gag.

“So, the notorious blue paladin, huh?” He sneered in Lance’s ear.  “Not too hard to take down.”

Now, Lance was never one to flaunt his lows. No, he’d much rather make nice and show a smile before he even thought about showing his fear. But now, Lance was _scared_. He was clawing at the knot that held his hands together as he felt the Galra breathe down his neck.

At that moment he even would have wished for Shiro to come retrieve him.

The last thing he expected though, was Keith with his Blade teammates bursting through the door. They took down the general quick enough, Lance couldn’t really keep his head on straight at that moment.

He did, though, feel when the bonds were cut free from his wrists and his gag from his mouth. He sucked in the sweet, damp air finally- filling his lungs after too long. It wasn’t a surprise when he felt the tears prick the back of his eyes.

“God, Keith!” he laughed, elated. “It only took me getting kidnapped to see your face again.” He grinned before throwing his arms over the shorter man’s shoulders. Keith’s mask phased off so Lance could see his grin.

“Hey man.” He said softly. “Let’s get you back to the castle, yeah? Hunk’s going crazy.” Lance let out a hardy laugh, expelling the last of that foul _old_ taste. He finally let the former red paladin go and rubbed his wrists.

“Ya know, we miss you man.” Lance let out, scuffing his boot against the ground. He watched Keith’s face soften before rolling his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head, Mullet.” He murmured. Keith’s gentle smile only grew until it was so bright that Lance had to look away.

“You guys are so cute but we’ve got to move before this whole base goes down.” One of the other blades spoke up. Lance and Keith were snapped out of their reverie, shaking off the warm feelings that somehow always managed to find them. They booked it to the pod that was waiting just on the outside in the deep waters of the planet. Soon, the group was out and on route to the castle.

Keith looked over at Lance from the corner of his eye before sighing and placing a hand on his knee.

“You okay?” he asked, softly. “I know how you are with,” he stumbled for the words. “Fabric?” Lance chuckled, the sound hollow and empty.

 

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “I have to get over it.” He pushed his hands through his hair, leaving it to stick up at odd angles. “I can’t-,” He took a breath. “I can’t freeze up like I did today.” Tears shown in his eyes. “God I was _pathetic_.” He forced out a laugh. “I was useless just because of a stupid piece of cloth that I couldn’t soak in bleach. How stupid is that?” He was whispering now, the words falling softly like a secret on a close friend’s ears. The sad thing was, this embarrassing, unrelenting fear wasn’t a secret. The entire team knew how useless Lance was. How useless he always will be.

His therapist back on Earth would always ramble on about ways to calm his anxiety. He would say picture the worst case scenario (Allura and Shiro kick him off the team and eject him from the ship and never give his family his body and his parents think that Lance died a loser), the best case scenario (the team helps him figure out his issues and all is well and good), and the most likely scenario (everyone think’s he is just a pathetic piece of shit- even more so than normal). Well, there’s no way in hell the best case is going to happen and the most likely and worst cases are both pretty shit, so Lance sees no reason not to fuel his immense self-hate.

He could feel himself spiraling when he felt hands on his shoulders. Violet eyes were before his own, slow and blinking. His lips were moving but Lance couldn’t hear the words they were forming. But, he could follow Keith’s chest- breath in and out with him and sync their breathing. Finally, he felt the world around him again. They were in the castle hangers. The other blades had left the pod.

He felt Blue nudging at the edges of his mind, concern coloring her emotions. He smiled and shook his head. “Sorry. Kinda got in my head for a second.” Keith took Lance’s face in his hands, running his thumbs along the crests of his cheekbones.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He mumbled. “You _will be_ okay.” Keith leaned forward, placing his forehead firmly against Lance’s. “And I’ll be with you, every single step of the way.”

Lance blinked, closing his eyes against the tears. “I really missed you, Keith.”

“Yeah,” Keith sighed. “I missed you too.”

And they stayed like that, just soaking in each other- until they finally found the resolve to leave the pod and join the team again.

**Author's Note:**

> yo!
> 
> long time, nothing new. 
> 
> based lance's fear off of my own fear. literally its so stupid but i seriously cant touch anything old. thrift stores are a nightmare.
> 
> anyway i hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> hit up my tumblr
> 
> langstexmachina.tumblr.com
> 
> thanks for reading!!
> 
> \- day


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